


The Survivalist

by GreenVeal



Category: Half Life
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gordon having an unusual connection to vorts, There’s a major mental health issue going on here but I don’t think it has a name, black mesa, hecu, hl1, i think, this is edgy, vortigaunts - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23325256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenVeal/pseuds/GreenVeal
Summary: While making his way through the underground maze that is Black Mesa, Gordon gets a small look at the big picture.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





	The Survivalist

Fortune only favored the statistically lucky. Life itself was a random number generator, and there was always bound to be a fortuitous few.

Gordon Freeman was not a lucky man, if he was, he would not be here, he would not be clawing through the bowels of Black Mesa while the world fell apart around him. He was painted in blood, both human and alien, sweat and slime had congealed in his hair, his head still throbbed from the force of the cascade.

He’d lost his helmet last week. Where on earth had his helmet gone? Now that he needed it, it was probably sitting under his bed.

Thinking of his bed made him feel slightly ill. He needed to rest, and he wanted to sleep, but he knew it would kill him.

Nowhere was safe, and caution wouldn’t let him close his eyes.

Whenever he thought he’d found a brief reprieve, something new would go nightmarishly wrong. Once he thought the resonance cascade had ended, more portals would open up to reveal some new bloodthirsty alien. If he met up with another human being, they would surely die in front of him. If he thought he was being rescued, his saviors were bound to try and finish him off.

It kept happening, it kept getting worse.

For all intents and purposes, this was the secular version of hell.

Gordon wanted to escape Black Mesa more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Yesterday morning he had not considered himself a particularly brave or resilient man, but now he didn’t know what had become of him. Perhaps he was too desperate to be scared. Now all of his attackers were just obstacles, regardless of what or who they were.

As he sidled through the burning remains of his workplace, he stopped to loot the wallets of his former coworkers. Disgusting as it was, he needed to eat. He brought the resulting change to a nearby vending machine and made his order.

Two bottles of water, a bag of trail mix, and an energy bar. He was trying to eat healthy, as if it made some sort of a difference in his situation. Maybe he was supposed to be packing on as many calories as possible in a predicament like this? He didn’t know, he’d never been a survivalist. With his head in his hands, he wondered if it would matter at all.

His shoddy meal was interrupted by the approaching sound of gunfire. 

Instinctively, Gordon ducked down beside the nearest open door and took a position that gave him a relatively clear view of the main hallway. Two men were yelling, most likely a pair of HECU soldiers. Then Gordon heard the now-familiar screech of an alien foot soldier summoning up lightning.

He could picture the fight clearly, and he intended to see it through until the end, then pick off the winner. Mentally, he did a double take at his own calculations. Had simple guerrilla warfare really become second nature to him over the course of a single day? What would happen to him if this lasted for a week? 

While he contemplated, the sounds of combat drew nearer. Moments later he watched a misshapen alien turn the corner, followed by two men in black and white camouflage. The alien was the first to fall, collapsing under its own weight and crumpling onto the floor. The HECU duo looked at each other, and one began to speak- Gordon cut him off with a bullet to center mass, then shot the other as he reacted. 

The second soldier had dropped his weapon before Gordon took his shot. He’d been attempting to surrender. 

Why couldn’t this be a nightmare? Why couldn’t Gordon just wake up in a hospital where some nurse would explain to him that he’d been knocked unconscious in the reactor, so he could collect his insurance money and put some towards his niece’s college fund? 

Why was this happening to him?

Once his initial shock faded, he felt something cool inside of him. Not really a wave of calm, but rather understanding.

“The Free-man is not to blame, what has happened was beyond you.” A voice croaked.

Initially, Gordon figured he’d finally lost his mind. But when the voice continued, he tracked it to the bloodied alien laying slack on the linoleum.

“Thank you, for saving me. It was all you could do.”

Gordon wanted to reply in some way, but he already knew he’d be unable to get any words out of his mouth. Before this, he hadn’t even realized these aliens could speak English, it was almost surprising enough to make him forget that this particular alien had just called him by name. An approximation of his name, but still.

Not just that, it was thanking him for saving it, he hadn’t even considered sparing it until this moment.

He’d just murdered two members of his own species. What possible chance did this thing have to reason with him?

“You set me free. You are the Free-man.” The alien replied. Gordon got the very distinct sense that it was reading his mind, but oddly, he found himself okay with that. The creature just seemed so genuine and respectful. If he didn’t know better, he would have concluded that he was reading the alien’s mind in turn.

He approached it without his typical weariness, and decided to sit by its side. From up close, he could see that the alien’s metal armour was bolted into its skin. The sight sent a chill through Gordon’s body, and he felt a wave of shame emanating off of the stranger.

“It is okay now. I will be free soon.” 

Gordon knew it was talking about death. He wondered if those bands green metal weren’t armour at all, but rather shackles. He felt a confirmation, but there was something else to it.

“The Free-man must know, we are both guided by the same force. You will come to know him.”

What was it talking about? A god? 

“Maybe, by our standards.” The vortigaunt replied.

While Gordon realized that he’d just picked up on the name of the alien’s species, he found himself questioning the sanity of the dying vortigaunt. After all, it’d already lost a copious amount of blood, if the yellow puddle Gordon was sitting in was anything to go by. 

“It was nice to meet the Free-man. A great warrior, a good man.” 

With that, the alien’s thoughts went still, and Gordon came crashing back to reality. It was still the same reality where he’d just communed with a dying extraterrestrial.

Despite not understanding it whatsoever, he began to dissect the information he’d just been given. Not only could these vortigaunts read his mind, but they were being controlled by something. Gordon realized the scale of what that implied, it was like passing by an iceberg, and he was only able to speculate on the true size of it all. Either way, he knew he wasn’t seeing the entire thing.

The word ‘why’ crept back into his brain, and it threatened to take over if he didn’t start to move again. So he stood, and began to trudge away.

He left the alien’s body behind him, same as he had with so many individuals before. It’s massive red eye had not closed in death, leaving it with a soft mournful expression.

It had spoken of him so fondly. He wished he could have done something to live up to that regard.

Now he knew something more about what he was up against, and it made him feel so much more hopeless. Just like the HECU, those electrical aliens had been drafted into a fight they didn’t want. With each passing hour, Black Mesa became less and less about the groups sent here, and more about the individuals trying to survive it.

Those men hadn’t been fighting for their Sargent, same as that alien wasn’t fighting for its captors. They all just wanted out, and if they had to tear through each other in order to get out, they would do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> Gordon, after killing the nihilanth: *is fully convinced that he’s just slain the great fate weaving entity that one vort spoke about*
> 
> G-man: *looms ominously, as one does*


End file.
